


Sick

by in_paper_dreams



Category: Harry Styles - Fandom, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Complete, F/M, Harry Styles - Freeform, Harry Styles Angst, Harry Styles Fanfic, Harry Styles Fanfiction, Harry Styles Fluff, Harry Styles Imagines, Harry Styles x Reader, One Direction Angst, One Direction Fanfic, One Direction Fanfiction, One Direction Imagine, One Direction Imagines, One Direction One Shot, One Direction Preferences, One Direction drabble, One Direction x Reader, harry styles concept, harry styles concepts, harry styles drabble, harry styles drabbles, harry styles fan fic, harry styles fan fiction, harry styles fan fictions, harry styles fanfics, harry styles fanfictions, harry styles imagine, harry styles one shot, harry styles oneshot, harry styles preference, harry styles preferences, one direction - Freeform, one direction concept, one direction concepts, one direction drabbles, one direction fan fic, one direction fan fiction, one direction fan fictions, one direction fanfics, one direction fanfictions, one direction fluff, one direction oneshot - Freeform, one direction preference
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-04
Updated: 2018-09-04
Packaged: 2019-07-06 20:04:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15893163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/in_paper_dreams/pseuds/in_paper_dreams
Summary: Y/N ends up in the hospital when Harry wasn’t there to care for her.[COMPLETED]





	1. Chapter 1

12 missed calls.

12.

He has 12  _fucking_  missed calls from her.

How could he be so callous? He can’t even bring himself to listen to their accompanying voicemails, afraid to hear the weakness in her voice. Terrified that the moment she broke will be captured in one of the messages.

It’s all he could think about as he rushed down the hallway.

12 times she tried to reach him, tried to get  _help_.

12 times he  _ignored_  her.

It was an important day, he told her, “sorry, love, I really can’t skip out. We’ve gotten into a groove with this song. Really think we’re gonna nail it today,” he stated as he rushed around getting ready to leave, turning down her request. “But get some rest take a bath or summat. Bet you’ll be feeling better in no time, yeah? Tha’s my girl.”

He kissed her head, which in retrospect was more of a grazing of his lips across her scalp than anything. He wants to punch himself for it now. He should have known. She rarely asks for anything.

He should have _been_  there.

The sad, weak look in her eyes as he left her alone in their bed, messy hair and comforter bunched around her waist, he can’t get it out of his head.

And now it’s going to haunt him forever.

He knew she was sick. It had been painfully obvious. The stuffy head cold, the constant cough. How could he have not realized just how bad it was? His stubborn girl, never wanting to be an inconvenience. How could he have not seen it? He’s supposed to notice things like that. That’s his job. He’s supposed to know her better than anyone else. He’s supposed to be able to read those signs. The second she quietly asked him to skip work, he should have known.

And he didn’t.

“Can’t you stay with me today, H?” A coughing fit had given her pause, face red, struggling to regain her composure. After a few moments she caught her breath and rasped out, “Just feel better when you’re around, s’all.”

And Harry? All he could think about in that moment was where his  _stupid fucking Ray-Bans_  were. He remembers how he frantically searched for them, barely acknowledging how she admitted she needed him. How quick he was to turn her down and dismiss what should have been so evident to him. He should have seen it in her face, heard it in her voice. Hell, the cough was enough of a dead give away and he didn’t even pay any notice that. No. He was too busy looking for  _Ray-Bans_  and rushing off to finish a song that he couldn’t even remember one line of right now. 

He didn’t even give her a proper kiss goodbye when he left.

 _He_ feels sick.

It took his mother calling the studio for him to hear the news.

_His mother._

His stomach churns even thinking about it. How Y/N tried and tried to contact him for help. How she finally had no choice but to  _give up on him_  and find someone  _else_ she could depend on.

She must have been so scared and he wasn’t there.

All he can picture is his poor girl, struggling to breathe. How painful it must have felt. The fear and panic she must have experienced.

And he wasn’t there.

He couldn’t even  _answer the phone_.

It’s a whirlwind when he finally arrives in the proper corridor he barely remembers his mother telling him to go to. He vaguely registers the presence of Anne and Gemma in the hallway. He doesn’t even pause to say hello. He brushes right by them and straight into the room. He can hear their voices calling out to him, feel them following him into the room, but he doesn’t stop.

He needs to see her.

It takes a minute to realize it’s truly his girl lying in that bed. Y/N’s hooked up to machines that are beeping far too loudly and have too many lights. A wave of nausea hits him again, the realization of how sick she must be. The girl who can’t sleep if there’s a single light shining in the darkness. The girl who’s kept up by the slightest noise no one else even would notice. Yet here she is, fast asleep, surrounded by a sea of noises and lights.

He sinks into the chair at her bedside, hands shaking. She looks so much worse than this morning, so pale and so weak.

A man who he can only assume is the doctor enters the room, speaking with his mother in hushed tones. He can barely focus on their words. He can’t stop staring at her face, willing her to open those beautiful eyes and just  _look_  at him.

       _Pneumonia… complications…_

The studio session could have waited.

_Collapsed lung… chest tube…_

He should have taken care of his girl.

      _Released air pressure… recovery period…_

He scoots the chair forward, reaching out a trembling hand to clasp hers. Gently cradling her fingers in his, it’s only when the tears hit his arm that he even realizes he’s crying. He kisses her fingers softly, resting his forehead against her hand.

She needed him and  _he wasn’t there_.

He’ll be damned if he ever lets that happen again.


	2. Chapter 2

Harry Styles had a death wish.

Y/N loved the boy, but he was driving her insane. Constantly following her everywhere, never letting her do anything for herself. It was a wonder she was even allowed to use the bathroom on her own. She actually had to  _barter_  for that privilege.

It had been five days since Y/N was released from the hospital and she was ready to murder Harry. At first his attention was sweet. He was being the doting boyfriend, taking care of his sick girlfriend. She knew it came from a place of guilt, but she had already assured him a million times over that she in no way blamed him for what happened. She could have told him how awful she actually felt. Better yet, she could have gone to the doctor like she  _should have_  in the first place.

That seemed to do nothing to placate Harry. It was nice four days ago, especially given the incision was still a bit sore then.  But she felt much better now. The medicine was clearly doing its job and her incision site didn’t even hurt anymore. Sure, she still had to clean it and whatnot, but it didn’t ache like it once had.

And yet, here Harry was,  _still_  acting like she was an invalid. Y/N tried to keep her patience with him but it was ending fast. No matter how she tried to tell him; he just didn’t seem to get it. This morning alone he had laid out a towel for her to use whilst showering. Upon her exit from said shower, her hair products and makeup were all laid out on top of the sink, as opposed to their usual spot underneath. It was sweet, but it just didn’t  _stop_. She was surprised he hadn’t laid her clothes out for her, though she would bet he thought about it.

“Lemme get that for ya, love,” he said, and with a quick snatch, the box of tea bags Y/N  _had_  been reaching for was pulled down by, no, not Y/N, but  _Harry_. He handed it over to her with a smile.

Muttering a soft, “thanks,” Y/N turned to place the tea bag in her steaming mug of hot water, which had been supplied by, you guessed it,  _Harry_. After letting it steep for a few moments, she turned to go to the fridge, only to be met by his smiling face  _again_  only this time, he was holding both creamer and milk.

“Know ya usually go fo’ milk, but ya been known to switch it up a bit so I grabbed some mo’ creamer jus’ in case,” he said, giving each each a light shake.

Wordlessly taking the milk, Y/N made her way back to her tea, pouring a little in and stirring it. She didn’t fail to notice his arm shoot out and grab the milk to put it away. Maybe once she had her tea prepared, she could try and talk to him about this whole hovering thing. Tea always calmed her nerves and the last thing Y/N wanted to do was start a fight. Closing her eyes, she took a steadying breath.

_Clink_. The sugar container hit the counter top next to her, a fresh spoon seconds behind it.

_Fuck the fight_.

“Damn it Harry, I can’t  _take_  this!” Y/N cried out, staring below at the counter top and slamming the spoon already in her hand down onto it, “I don’t  _need_  you doing everything for me. I can’t even get a minute to breathe. It’s either the remote, or my shoes, or my  _hairbrush_.  Oh, ‘ _hold on, love, let me get that for ya_ ,’ or ‘ _wait a minute, love, I’ll get ya this_ ’ or ‘ _no, no, love, I can do that for ya_ ,’ and I just  _can’t_ Harry. I can’t. You’re  _suffocating_  me and I can’t do it anymore. Despite what you may believe, I’m not some weak, little thing. I can  _actually_  take care of  _myself_! I’m not just gonna fall apart the second you look away!”

“ _But you did_ ,” he all but whispers.

Y/N whips around, ready to serve a scathing retort until she catches the sight of him in front of her. The smile is gone, not a single trace of it on his face. He’s looking off out the window, eyes blinking furiously as they glass over. His hands are clenched into tight fists and she can see his jaw working as he attempts to pull himself together.

All the anger Y/N felt immediately leaves her body. She lets her shoulders relax and she takes a tentative step towards him. This is new territory for them. Usually she was the one having a breakdown and he was piecing her back together. She  _heard_  he was a wreck upon his arrival at the hospital, but by the time the pain meds wore off and she had awoken from her surgery, he was back to his usual self and ready to help in whatever way was needed.

She steps up to him, carefully bringing her hands up to his face so she can get him to look at her, “ _Harry_ ,”

He closes his eyes at her touch, a tear making its way down his face. Blinking them back rapidly, he still refuses to look at her. It makes her heart ache. She hadn’t realized he was hurting over this. She just thought he was being overprotective like he’s often apt to be.  _This_ , though, she never expected.

“Harry, baby, please. I need you to look at me, okay? I need you to look at me when I say this to you,” she strokes his face with one hand, the other gently brushing his hair.

He closes his eyes again, shaking his head, “ _Can’t, poppet_ ,” he whispers. His jaw trembles and he sniffs slightly, leaning into her touch.

Seeing him like this brings tears to her eyes as well. He’s always so strong. So brave. So ready to take on anything that comes his way. He’s not the one who breaks.

Yet here he is, crumbling in front of her.

Both of her hands make it back to either side of his face again, their grip more firm this time, “Harry, please. Look at me, okay? I’m here. I’m right here. I’m right  _here_ , baby. I’m okay and I’m  _right_.  _Here_.”

He turns, resting his forehead against hers, his hands gripping her arms tightly while he takes a deep breath. It takes him a minute, but he nods and opens his eyes, looking directly into hers.

“ _Oh Harry_ ,” Y/N whimpers, wiping tears from his face, “I’m okay, Harry.  _I’m okay,_ ”

“Yeh don’ understand, love. You didn’t see – you weren’t –  _Christ_ , baby. Never been so scared in my life. Yeh were all hooked up to all these machines and I just– I  _knew_  you were sick. I  _knew_  and I  _left_ ya. And if I had been there, if I had just  _stayed_ –” He closes his eyes again while shaking his head, giving her arms a squeeze before he speaks quietly, “Yeh never ask me for anythin’ and the one time yeh do – I should have  _been_  there. ‘S my job to protect you, to take  _care_  of you, and I didn’t. I didn’t even  _answer the fuckin’ phone_. I mean what kind of  _selfish_ ,  _self-centered_ ,  _pri_ -,”

Y/N kisses him then, forcefully and hard. He clings to her, kissing her back just as passionately. His hands are everywhere, anchoring her to him. It’s a solid few minutes until they pull apart, both breathing raggedly.

“I don’t deserve ya. I don’t,” he says, his forehead resting against hers again. “I let ya down and I broke the most important promise I made to ya. I know I’m annoyin’ ya, drivin’ ya mad. I can see it but I can’t help it. I’m worryin’ about ya  _all the time_  and I’m jus’– I’m tryin’, love,”

Y/N’s lip trembles, listening to him berate himself like this. It’s like a twisting knife, “Harry Edward Styles, you listen to me  _right now_. So what if you weren’t there?”

Harry starts at this, a look of anger flashing across his face but Y/N shakes her head, putting her forefinger against his lips to stop him, “No. It’s my turn to talk and you’re going to  _listen_. Harry, even if you were there, there wasn’t anything you could have done. I was sick,  _Harry_. I had pneumonia because  _I_  didn’t go to the doctor.  _I_  didn’t get on any medication.  _I_  didn’t take care of  _myself_. You can’t save me from everything. You shouldn’t have to. But I can’t let you beat yourself up like this. It’s not fair and I’m not going to let you do it. We can’t keep on like this. We need to move forward,  _together_. I’m on medicine now. The pneumonia is getting better. My lungs feel  _so_  much stronger. I just need you to trust me when I tell you that I’m okay,”

Harry takes her hand then, kissing her palm softly. He holds it against his mouth for a moment before looking at her again, this time a soft, slight smile on his face, “’M not gonna go making promises I can’t keep. But I’ll try love. Jus’ worry about ya, tha’s all,”

“I know, and I love you for it but if you don’t stop, I’m going to severely beat your ass,” Y/N smirks; giving his shoulders a light shake.

He laughs out loud at that, kissing her forehead, “Alright,  _alright_ , love. I’ll do my best,”

She hums at the contact, smiling at him as he pulls away, “Seriously though, you need to stop treating me like I’m glass. I’m not going to fall apart just because you’re a little rough with me,”

His eyes change in an instant and Y/N knows her mistake. She begins to back away from him, knowing exactly what’s going through his mind as he starts to advance, “Harry, no, don’t yo– “

She shrieks as he grabs her and throws her over his shoulder, giving her bum a spank, “What’s that about, love? Want me to be  _rough_  with ya, poppet? Not gonna  _fall apart_ , huh? We’ll see about tha’,”

He makes his way for the stairs up to the bedroom, laughing as she kicks her legs while shrieking for him to put her down.

He’s ready for her to show him just how strong those lungs  _really_  were.


End file.
